


A Palpable Hit

by moth2fic



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-13
Updated: 2010-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-11 05:04:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/108722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moth2fic/pseuds/moth2fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snow falls on London.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Palpable Hit

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the snow in England in early 2010.

Squeak-scrunch.

Their footsteps were loud and their clothes were vivid against the snow.

"A good job we aren't trying to follow anyone. They'd hear us coming a mile off." Doyle swung his arms, hands enclosed in suede gloves, gesturing at the street and the whiteness.

"D'you think snow will scare the terrorists then?" Bodie sounded amused but dubious.

"No but they'll be as obvious as us and that's not their style. They'll stay indoors perfecting their bombs and their plans - all the more work for us when it thaws. Take it from me, when I was a copper we spent snowy days inside. The criminals were all inside too, one way or another." Doyle grinned.

"We'll probably be stuck in records," said Bodie and they groaned in unison, turning into the car park, even though they were on foot. They'd struggled to get here and last night they'd abandoned the Capri. Now they wanted to check its antifreeze, maybe tuck it up with a rug inside its bonnet. The snow was pristine, glinting in the sunshine. They were the first to arrive, at least in the car park.

"Why have we trudged through this lot to get to records, then?" Doyle was beginning to sound grumpy. It had been a long walk, past marooned cars, a bus that was going nowhere and signs to say the Underground was closed - the drivers couldn't get to work, it seemed.

"Got to show willing," said Bodie, trying to sound bracing and failing.

"Willing to what? Push pens?"

"Defend Queen and country?"

"Nah - not a chance in this weather." The finality in Doyle's voice made Bodie's lips twitch but as he started to reply they heard snow-altered footsteps behind them and turned with lightning reflexes only slightly slowed by the stuff underfoot. Murphy, Jax and Susan, all muffled up to the nines, were at the gate, obviously sharing their determination to prove they could get to work despite the fact that the capital had ground to a halt.

Afterwards nobody was quite sure who had thrown the first snowball, except of course, the thrower and they weren't telling. Doyle always thought it been Bodie.

Soon it was a melee, every man (or woman) for him or herself. Snow flew, aimed by expert marksmen, powder drifting from the white trajectories, settling on clothes and hair. Soft thwacks joined the squeal of dodging feet and there was carefree laughter. At some point Cowley arrived and after a quick glance joined in, his face cracking in a huge and unaccustomed grin.

A snowball hit Doyle exactly on his heart - an accurate thwump then clumps of compressed snow clinging to his wool jacket, melting slowly from the warmth of the lithe body beneath. He looked across at Bodie, and blinked eyelashes frosted with the snow that was falling again, gentle but inexorable against the sun.

"Got me," he acknowledged with a smile and Bodie gave a small almost formal bow

"I know," his expression said, and he rolled another snowball in gloved hands while Doyle stood waiting, wrapped in the pleasure of the morning..


End file.
